The top of the sOuth - wlth rts Wlne, ltS natural beauty, us sunshlne charms every tlme

akaka Hill divides the vineyards and apple orchards of the Nelson region from the lush green patchwork of dairy farms of Golden Bay, the road traversing it Tcontaining a series of bends so acute and significant some of them are even named: signposts tell you exactly which U-turn has forced you into first gear or permeated the air with the tang of overheated breaks. As I climbed higher in the early morning, the mist settled on the Nelson side took on the appearance of a puddle cloaking the town of , and I passed at one point - full of sympathy and admiration - a pair of cyclists suffering up the hill. It's part of the country I know well: as children we took holidays in the region; as a young adult, I spent summers picking apples or grapes and descending on Nelson and Golden Bay and surrounds for New Year's Eve. But it was the spirit of the former I tried first to invoke. Straight from the airport, I headed far up Aniseed Valley, where gorse choked the verges and groves of birch trees hid the contours of the Serpentine River, trying to find the swimming holes remembered from childhood. With nothing to go on but very fallible memories, I didn't,

Opposite page: A man-made aqueduct beside the Pupu Hydro Walkway. Above: in the morning. Left: A restored old building now houses a pub at Moutere Hills vineyard.

AIRNEWZEALAND.CO.NZ. KiaOra ED Above: Fossil Point reflected on the wet sands of . Below: Outdoor dining at Moutere Hills. Opposite page: A track leads you through the bush to Rawhiti Cave.

but one in particular, aqua blue and icy, arrested my attention, rocky shelves leading down to clear, incalculable depths. I ruined the possibility of a swim by first dipping a foot in the water - it was freezing, and autumn's first touch was in the air - but how peaceful to sit in solitude under the big blue of a sky listening to the water gurgle, the birds singing. With a reservation for lunch in , I had to drag myself away. I met the owner of Moutere Hills vineyard, Rusty Rayne, and he talked me through a tasting of his range - a favourite was the 2013 Moutere Hills Sarau Reserve Pinot Noir, and it was this with which I accompanied a delicious Mediterranean-inspired lamb salad. We were joined for our late lunch by head winemaker Patrick Stowe, a garrulous fifth-generation Californian from Napa Valley, who had arrived as a backpacker many years ago - his accent flattened by his time in New Zealand - and had fallen in love with the area. "I never thought I'd leave California," he said at one point, "but then I found somewhere better." And later: "We live in paradise." Faced with the bucolic outlook - "rustic" is how Rayne describes his patch of land - it was hard to disagree: the late afternoon leaned in gently on the al fresco eating area, dogs belonging to Rayne and Stowe elicited affection from diners

CD AIRNEWZEALAND.CO.NZ. KiaOra

Opposite page: Rawhiti Cave. Above: Te Waikoropupu Springs, home to some of the world's clearest water. Below: Terns facing into the wind on Farewell Spit.

and, in the paddocks, vines were draped in luminously white protective netting. I spent the afternoon among those vines in the company of Rayne and the dogs, tasting grapes, and then in the shed, sampling wine in different stages of fermentation. When I finally left, it was with another bottle of that same pinot noir safely tucked under my arm, to be enjoyed later that evening. Arriving on the other side of Takaka Hill the next morning, the air was hazy from a burn-off somewhere, the angles of the sunlight visible in the smoke. I made my way to Tata Beach, surely one of the prettiest in the country, where I had an appointment to go kayaking. I met my guide, Spencer Binda, a Canadian who, I was to learn, takes his kayaking very seriously, once embarking on a 40-day solo kayak and currently in the stages of planning a circumnavigation of Vancouver Island, his home. Our journey - the others booked on the tour failed to show, so it was just the two of us in a double kayak - was far less ambitious. We paddled out to and around Motu and Ngawhiti Islands, admiring the nesting shags in the rocks, and the New Zealand fur seals hiding in plain sight among them. Binda proved a knowledgeable guide, pointing out the exact piece of rock that was the last to be connected to

AIRNEWZEALAND.CO.NZ. KiaOra G -Nelson

unlikely as it seems now, was once mooted as the country's capital. A gold rush brought prospectors from all over - and gave the area its name - and up at the peaceful little cemetery above the town, you can see a copy of the original plan of the city that was never to be. Bigger gold rushes in Otago dragged settlers to the south and, with them, the notion of Collingwood as the capital. Despite my familiarity with the area, I had never made it further north than Collingwood. I joined a tour bound for Farewell Spit one morning, departing from Collingwood's main street, and our big four-wheel-drive bus was soon lumbering past kanuka trees bent away from the prevailing wind and onto the beach, the tripartite division of the landscape - muted sand, navy ocean, clouded horizon - like a giant Mark Rothko canvas. We passed terns and shags and oystercatchers and seals lounging on the sand, and paused for tea near Farewell Spit Lighthouse, currently undergoing restoration, where a formerly very popular New Zealand pop song emanating from the tradies' radio was the only thing to destroy the serenity of this very isolated spot. Above: The Waters luxury bed and breakfast. On our way back to Collingwood, we stopped first to walk among the huge dunes, contoured into sensual shapes by the wind, and then at Cape Farewell, the South Island's northernmost spot, where fenced-in sheep grazed in the Australia, after which Gondwanaland drifted further and fields and the ocean went on forever. Then, back in town, I further apart. In , the water was of a lake-like stopped into the Collingwood Tavern for a revitalising pint and stillness, disturbed only by the occasional fish jumping. a pie - remembered from previous trips, they are seriously Clouds of sand exploded from the sea floor as our paddling good - before retiring for the evening to Zatori Retreat, a disturbed the stingrays that are drawn to the shallo'N"bay for beautiful property set on a small bluff above town, with views the warmth of its water. of Collingwood and, beyond, of the long accusatory finger of At the far end of Wainui Bay is another spot of national Farewell Spit pointing out to sea. ~ significance. At Taupo Point you can still see the remnants of STORY & PHOTOGRAPHS JAMES BORROWDAlE the runs from which local Maori launched their waka to meet Abel when he became the first European to sight contact nelsonnz.com, goldenbaynz.co.nz - but not set foot upon - New Zealand, in 1642. Tasman and his men initially mistook a haka as a warm reception, their mistake realised when five Dutch sailors were killed. This prompted Tasman to sail away, and to dub the area Air New Zealand offers daily non• Murderers Bay. It wasn't until 1769, and the arrival of James stop flights to Cook, that Maori and Pakeha would meet again. Nelson from across We paddled back to Little Tata Beach - gloriously the domestic secluded, a local favourite - for coffee and cake in the network. midday sun. Cloud was banking on the horizon, which meant, Binda told me, an offshore wind was coming that afternoon. As indeed it did, when later that afternoon I returned to Tata Beach for my last swim of the season in the now choppy, but still warm, water.

Takaka is the biggest town in Golden Bay, and the f) Holiday Packages ~ 0800747222 AIR NEW ZEALAND ~ following day it had the faded charm of a summer town out f) Holidays Travel Brokers 0800 737 767 of season - its galleries and cafes quiet - and I headed ~ airnewzeatand co nz AS AR AL A',CO- 'vlf:M!::H:H •;!.. further north, to even smaller Collingwood. Collingwood, as

• AIRNEWZEALAND.CO.NZ. KiaOra